By Owain Reed
Right, let’s get the elephant out of the room. Why is a Welshman that’s never been to North Shields, writing in the local paper?
The answer is family, and more pertinently, family history. Born and bred in Cardiff, I grew up believing that I was Welsh through and through. I was always close to my mother’s side of the family, but due to various circumstances, I didn’t see much of my father’s side.
That’s changed recently and as we all spend time together and get to know each other, it’s ignited an interest in understanding my roots. A lot of work was already done on my mother’s side, but my father’s side, and in particular the male line, remained a bit of a mystery to me.
We knew that my grandfather was born in Cornwall, so had assumed that this is where our family history lay. Having spoken to my Aunt I learned that my great-grandfather was ‘from Newcastle’. As I started to delve a bit deeper, I learned that it wasn’t Newcastle, but in-fact, North Shields.
Born in 1894, John Bowmaker Reed lived the first part of his life in North Shields. When the First World War began, he was eventually enlisted and was stationed 374 miles away in Devon. There, he met his wife Maud and that’s where the North Shields line ended.
But in good fashion, you work backwards when creating your family tree and this is where my true roots became clear.
From my great-grandfather, all the way back to 1794, all of my family were born, raised and passed away in North Shields. In all honestly, it probably dates much further back than that, but as everyone does, I’ve hit a bit of a brick wall.
What I have found is a deep-seated love for a town that I’ve never been to. It’s a place that oddly feels like home and I’m a firm believer that I must have something of the men that went before me, embedded in my personality, values, and me as a person.
In saying that, names and dates are all well and good but what about the lives that those people lived? I’ve done my own research into this and had some wonderful support from locals that enjoy the ‘family tree hunt’ too.
The main things I’ve learned is that the working-class environment I grew up in, has roots that stretch back through centuries. From what I’ve discovered, the whole male line from father to son, worked at Smith’s Dock in various guises – including professions such as engine fitters.
It paints much more of a picture of the people behind the names and whilst I’ll never meet the men or women that went before, I strangely feel as if I know them, and it gives me great pride knowing that I have these strong North East roots.
What I’ve found is that the connections don’t really end there either. From the research that’s been conducted, there have also been marriages with other prominent names from North Shields too, as my tree is full of names such as Jobling, Jenkins and Chisholm.
With so much history, it’s hard to not feel a great pull towards North Shields and I’m starting to embed that history and make new connections. I speak regularly to people in various North Shields Nostalgia groups as well as having a newfound love for North Shields FC. Whilst I speak regularly to people, I’m sure I still have extended family in the area, and I’d love to hear from you if any of this has any resonance. It’s a puzzle that’s being put together but there are still so many pieces missing.
Finally, I’ll just share a story that was shared with me by Ken Beckett. It’s a story his Mother shared with him about his great-grandfather, John Chisolm Reed, who was my 3rd great uncle. He was a Barber and I believe he had a shop on Clive Street. It just gives a lovely insight into the time and affords some personality to a name. “We girls had to take it in turn to take granda’s ‘bait’ around to the shop. There was a red and white pole fixed to the wall. Inside it was fascinating! There was black and white check lino on the floor, and the walls were lined with huge glass fronted display cabinets. Inside these were stuffed birds and animals; a fox, a squirrel, an owl, a pheasant and other birds. It was a bit scary if I was in there alone.
My sisters and myself had to sweep around the shop when we took our Granda’s ‘bait’. Then twice a week Ma went around when the shop was closed to clean around and scrub the floor. On Thursdays granda would say “Go next door to Mrs Southall, she’s got something for your Ma” – it was almost a ritual.
Next door was a Tripe Shop, and Mrs Southall was a jolly ‘red faced’ woman. She always fussed us with a hug and a smile and gave us a big newspaper parcel to take home. We enjoyed our tea those nights. Us ‘bairns’ having lovely cold tripe seasoned with salt, pepper and vinegar, the adults having it cooked in milk seasoned with mustard.
